


Freedom

by Cardgamesonmotorcycles



Category: Yu-Gi-Oh!
Genre: M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-10-23
Updated: 2013-10-23
Packaged: 2017-12-30 06:46:59
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence, Major Character Death, Rape/Non-Con
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,204
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1015443
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Cardgamesonmotorcycles/pseuds/Cardgamesonmotorcycles
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>"Finally I was free." Marik finds himself trapped by a dominating Bakura, again. Will he escape and be free from his tormenter?</p>
            </blockquote>





	Freedom

“Bakura?”  
“Something wrong?” he asked, inclining his head and staring at me with the crimson eyes I had come to know so well. The cool bitterness they showed was unnerving.  
I paused, then shook my head.  
“I didn't think so” he smirked. “Now, where was I?”  
He looked down at my naked torso. “Ah, yes.”  
His smirk grew as he saw a flicker of fear in my eyes. Suddenly he lunged forwards, pinning me to the sofa with his hips, hands grabbing my wrists and gripping them above my head. I was trapped, utterly at his mercy.  
I swallowed. His eyes shot from my body up to my face. He leant into me til I felt his lips lightly brush my ear, I shuddered at his touch.  
“Don't be scared” he purred, breathing on my neck. “I won't hurt you. Much.” I squirmed underneath him, trying to free myself.  
He gripped my wrists tighter, nails digging in and drawing blood. I let out a hiss of pain. This seemed to please him, his smirk grew and he ran his tongue along the soft skin beside my ear, I closed my eyes, feeling sick.  
He ran his tongue down my face til he reached my neck, before biting down, tearing the skin and making me whimper. I moved under him, but he kept his mouth on my neck, biting deeper, I could feel my warm blood trickling down my skin. “Stop moving” he hissed. I instantly complied, hating myself for obeying him.  
Eyes screwed shut, I felt his tongue move to lap my blood like a cat.  
I didn't feel anything for a moment, and risked opening my eyes. I jerked back, his face millimeters from mine. I could see my blood on his chin, it glistened on his parted lips.  
“Damn Ishtar you taste good,” he whispered, before leaning in and kissing me hungrily. I could taste my blood mixed with the spicy taste of his saliva. He pushed his tongue into my mouth, exploring it. I shut my eyes and clenched my fists, only opening them when I felt him pull away, a string of saliva connecting us.  
He released my wrists and I gasped at the sudden coolness on my scratched skin.  
My relief only lasted a second, as his hands became occupied with undoing my belt and removing my jeans, working so quickly I had no time to try and escape him. Once this was done he reclaimed his grip, this time pinning my arms at my side with one of his own.  
His free hand brushed the band of my boxers, looking up at me teasingly, with eyes full of lust and danger. I said nothing, which seemed to anger him. He slid a finger inside my boxers, hand brushing the top of my thigh. I suddenly jerked away from him, writhing like a trapped animal. My only thought was to escape his touch. One of my arms broke free and I raked at his face with my nails, drawing blood. He growled at me and slammed his hand into my face, pushing me into the sofa cushions. I continued to try and escape, my free hand scratching every inch of him I could reach, but he was too strong and I was still trapped under him.  
“Like it rough Ishtar?” he hissed, before smashing his fist into my stomach.  
I cried out in pain, lights popping in front of my eyes. I retched, struggling for breath.  
“Don't. Ever. Touch. My. Face. Again.” He shouted, punctuating each word with a slap across my face. Blood trickled from my lip and cheek as I nodded feebly.  
“Good boy,” he purred, patting me on the head before cleaning the blood from my face with his tongue. I shuddered as he ran it along my cuts, stinging, licking roughly.  
“Now” he said, “if you behave that won't happen again, I wouldn't want to ruin that pretty face of yours Ishtar.”  
I ignored him, trying to block him out, focusing on the pain in my ribs and face. I let out a soft whimper, and tears formed in my eyes.  
“Don't cry yet,” he growled into my ear “I’m not finished with you.”  
He adjusted his position so he was sat straddling my waist, one knee between mine. He released my hands to undo his belt and remove his jeans and boxers. I didn't even try to escape, I’d given in to him, I always did in the end.  
I squeezed my eyes shut as his hands removed my boxers. Shame flooded me as It always did.   
“Open your eyes,” he commanded “I want you to see this.”  
I did as he said, sparing myself another beating.  
He hovered over me, eyes running up and down my body like I was a prize, a possession.   
I knew what was coming, but I was still not prepared for the pain as he forced himself inside me. I cried out and he let out a cruel, mocking laugh. He removed himself, only to slam inside again, with more force, this continued, faster, I could hear his grunts, feel his sweat as it fell on my chest. Finally he was spent, and collapsed on my chest, panting. He lay there a few minutes, regaining his strength, before releasing me and standing up. He smiled at me, a smile that held no warmth, his eyes victorious.  
“Until next time Ishtar,” he smirked, then his expression changed to one of disgust as he looked at me, “Go clean yourself up.”  
I lay there long after he left the room, until I heard his door slam. Only then did I allow the tears to fall, the salt infiltrating the cuts on my face. My breath came in harsh, ragged gasps. A sob passed my lips and I rolled into a ball, hugging my knees to my chest, wincing at the pain in my stomach.  
I lay there for what felt like hours, til I heard his light go off. Now was the time to put my plan into action.  
I got up slowly, pulling on my clothes, holding my ribs, my vision swam and I paused before standing and walking to the kitchen.  
The knife block gleamed silver, beckoning me. I limped over to it, before selecting the largest knife. I didn't bother sharpening it, I wanted it to hurt as much as possible.  
Holding it tightly in my hand I climbed the stairs, pausing in front of his door. The sounds of deep breathing reassuring me. I pushed his door open. He lay on his bed, his face a peaceful mask which hid his cruel manipulative ways. I held the knife above his body, and without hesitating, plunged it into his chest, his eyes opened, staring at me in shock. I pulled the knife out, blade glistening with the same deep crimson blood now flowing from his chest, flowing from my earlier wounds. I plunged the knife in, again and again, screaming all my hate for him. Finally I was done. He looked up at me, not speaking, not moving, just looking. Dead. I sank to the ground and cried, knife still in my hand. Finally, I was free.


End file.
